


Dennis Tries To Kill Himself

by castielanderson



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Borderline Personality Disorder, Depression, Eating Disorders, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 07:39:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11008932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielanderson/pseuds/castielanderson
Summary: As it turns out, North Dakota is not good for Dennis.





	Dennis Tries To Kill Himself

They’re arguing about what food item the mole on Charlie’s back looks like (Mac think’s it’s chicken wing, but Frank thinks it’s a goddamn rum ham) when Dee gets the call.  It’s an unknown number from North Dakota.

Dee growls.  “Ooh, what does that bastard want?” 

The gang - or what’s left of it - quiets down as she answers the phone.  Charlie leaves his shirt pulled over his head but peaks through the neck hole.

“Dennis?” Dee says through clenched teeth.

“Actually, it’s Mandy.”  The voice is soft, quiet.  It irritates Dee.  “I’m calling because Dennis is in the hospital.”

Dee scoffs.  “So?  He probably did something stupid, right?  I don’t care.  He probably had it coming to him.”

“Um - “ is all Mandy comes up with for a second.  Dee is about to hang up.  Then - “Dennis tried to commit suicide.”

Dee thinks she must have heard that wrong.  She repositions her phone and laughs.  “Wait - are you pranking me right now?”  She snorts.  “Dennis would never - " 

“Well, he did,” Mandy shoots back, and Dee is surprised by the acid in her voice.  “He overdosed on his mood stabilizers.”

“Fuck,” is all Dee says.  He must have stopped taking them at some point.  Got low enough, stocked them up, took them all at once when nobody was looking.  Goddamnit.  Goddamn him.  He was always so fucking selfish.  How dare he do this to her.  How dare he do this to everyone. 

“Yeah,” Mandy says, voice wavering.  “I think - I think he needs someone here right now.  Someone who isn’t me.”

“Yeah,” Dee agrees, already making flight plans in her head.  Sure, she spends a lot of time thinking of ways to antagonize her brother, as well as carrying out those ideas, but when they’ve had nothing else, they had each other.  That’s the way it works, the way it always has worked, ever since they were kids.  She would never admit, but deep down she loves Dennis.  Sometimes she even needs him.  And right now, he needs her. “I’ll be there.” 

She hangs up, and all her strength leaves her.  Her phone clatters to the counter and the glass in her hand smashes into the ground, scattering broken pieces in every direction.  Instantly, Mac and Charlie are at her side.   

“What’s wrong, Dee?” Charlie’s voice is a little fuzzy.

She swallows, throat alarmingly dry.  “Dennis tried to kill himself.”  She takes a moment to come back to reality as the guys shout at her in disbelief.  She turns on her heel, dazed.   “Now, come on.  We have to go.  We - we have to be there for him.  Something’s wrong.  Something’s really wrong, otherwise he wouldn’t - we - we have to - to - “  She sways a little, and Mac grabs her upper arms.

“Easy there,  Sweet Dee.  What did Mandy tell you?”

Dee thinks she might be crying.  There’s something wet on her cheeks and her eyes are burning.  “She said he overdosed on his meds.  I don’t - I don’t know what his condition is - she didn’t say.  She just said that we should come, that he needs us.”

Mac nods.  “She’s right.”  Shit, are those tears in his eyes too?  “Come on,” he says, clapping Charlie on the back and squeezing Dee’s shoulder.  “No time to waste.  Let’s get to the airport.”

.

Mac’s leg is shaking.  He’s chewing on his lip so forcefully that he draws blood.  He’s having trouble reconciling what he knows about Dennis with what’s happened.  He thinks maybe if he starts thinking out loud, the answers will come to him.

“So, Dennis is in the hospital, right?  Which means he did some kind of damage.”

Dee looks over at him, eyes puffy, arms crossed.  Charlie’s eating cheese cubes by the handful on Mac’s other side.

“Haven’t - haven’t we all tried to kill ourselves at some point?”

Dee nods.  Charlie grabs another handful of cheese.

“But they were all so half-assed,” Mac continues.  “Like Dee, you stepped in front of a bus that easily swerved to avoid you.  And Frank, you tied a shitty noose and gave up as soon as Dennis and I offered you steak.  Charlie - “

“I jumped out a window,” he says, mouth full.  “But it was like, only the second floor.  I didn’t even break anything.  Totally bogus, man.”

“Right, and I took one look at the gun and freaked out because suicide is a sin.  So I think it’s pretty obvious that all of us weren’t really trying to die.”

“Are you going somewhere with this?” Dee asks.

“Dennis is different,” Mac says, and his voice starts to shake.  “Dennis is methodical.  Dennis planned this out.  Dennis fully intended to die.”

Nobody says anything.  Frank sniffs, which makes Mac a little irritated.  Since when does Frank actually care about either of his children?  Maybe if he hadn’t abused the shit out of them, they wouldn’t be sitting in this overcrowded airport terminal right now.  Mac takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself.  He shouldn’t be playing the blame game right now.  Besides, if he’s gonna blame Frank, he’s gonna have to blame himself too.

“I should have said something,” Mac all but whispers.  “I knew something was wrong.  Dennis stopped talking to me, and then he would only text me when he was shitfaced and sad.”

“Mac - “ Dee starts, but it’s too late.  Mac is spiralling.

“It’s my fault.  Dennis kept telling me that he didn’t want this responsibility.  He said North Dakota was stifling him.”  Mac feels tears slide down his cheeks.  He chokes a little as he pushes out the next sentence.  “One night he told me that he would rather die than spend the next seventeen years there.”

“Mac, this isn’t your fault,” Dee sighs.  “Dennis made this choice on his own.  And if he stopped taking his meds, well what did he expect?  Of course he’s gonna be fucking depressed.”

“Yeah, man,” Charlie says, and he rests a hand on Mac’s shoulder.  “Don’t beat yourself up over this.  I don’t think any of us saw this coming.  I mean, like, it’s Dennis, man.”

Mac buries his face in his hands anyway.

.

As it turns out, Dennis is in the ICU.  He hasn’t woken up yet.  Not fully, anyway.  He’s opened his eyes but almost immediately went back under.  The doctor says he fucked a lot of shit up, that his organs were severely strained.  They expect him to recover, but they’ve got to keep a close eye on him for now.  It could always go south.

Mandy is waiting for them.  She’s sitting outside his room, hands folded together.  She only looks up when Dee waves a hand in front of her face and says.  “Ayo, bitch.”  She blinks, confused for a second until she registers who she’s looking at.

“Oh,” she says, shaking her head as she pushes herself up.  “Um, hi - thank - thank you for coming.  All your names should be cleared to see him, so you can go on inside.”

Mac heads for the open door first, but Dee doesn’t move.  “Aren’t you coming with us?” she asks.

Mandy shakes her head.  “I know he doesn’t want to see me.  If I’m the first thing he sees when he wakes up, I’m afraid - well, he might just stick his IV in his jugular.”  

Everyone winces and moves inside quietly without her.  They crowd around his bed, almost uncomfortably close.  Each one of them feels a bit claustrophobic, but nobody can move.  None of them have ever seen Dennis like this - except for maybe the time they quarantined themselves and went through alcohol withdrawal together.  He’s scary pale, absolutely no color to his face, not even his lips.  His eyes seem to have sunken deep into the sockets, and he’s skinnier than they’ve ever seen him - which is quite remarkable given how little he ever used to eat.

“He looks dead,” Mac whispers, and the others nod.  

“He almost was dead,” Dee counters.

“Fuck.”

.

Mac stays.  Once it’s past midnight, everyone else follows Mandy back to her home.  There’s the unspoken rule that nobody use the bathroom on the first floor since that was where she found him.  It’s possible she hasn’t even cleaned up the vomit yet.  Dee tries to get Mac to come with but he refuses; he hasn’t been able to sleep without Dennis anyway.  Maybe he’ll finally get a good night of sleep.  He pulls two hard-backed armchairs together, making himself a makeshift bed right next to Dennis’.  He falls asleep holding Dennis’ hand, sobs leaving him hiccupping.

It’s a loud groan that wakes Mac just a few hours later.  He blinks and peers out blearily into the darkness before realizing what’s going on.  Dennis groans again, and he shoots upright, heart raging against the inside of his throat.

“Den?” he asks softly.

Dennis looks toward him, one eye half-open, the other squeezed shut.  “Mac?” he croaks.  “What the hell?  What are you doing in - ?”  He stops talking and starts looking around instead, realizing that everything around him is unfamiliar.  “What - ?  Am I in the hospital?”

“Yeah, buddy,” Mac whispers.  “Do you know what happened?”

Dennis looks down at himself, thoroughly confused, but after a moment, becomes extremely stoic.  

“Shit,” he hisses.  He lets his head fall back on his pillow and squeezes his eyes shut again.  “Goddamnit.  It didn’t work.  That bitch found me, didn’t she?”  He sounds like he’s about to get fired up, but before Mac can do anything, his face relaxes and he’s snoring.

Mac curls slowly around himself, hand reaching automatically for Dennis’.  His nose twitches, and he knows he’s crying again.

.

The next time Dennis wakes up is almost twelve hours later.  Mac is still in the same chair, nursing a cup of shitty coffee that Dee spiked with something.  He stares at the floor, chest tight and jaw clenched.

“You’re still here?” Dennis asks, and he sounds like absolute shit.

Mac jumps, head whipping around.  “I didn’t know you were awake.”

Dennis just grunts.

“How are you feeling?” Mac asks, biting his lip.

Dennis sighs.  “I - I feel nothing.”

.

Dennis is moved out of the ICU, into regular care, but he’s still on suicide watch, and they leave his door open.  Every fifteen minutes someone comes to check in, and before anyone leaves, one of the gang has to get a nurse to sit with him while they’re gone.  Dennis is furious about it, but he doesn’t argue.

The next few days are spent with the gang piled around Dennis’ bed.  His new room is less private.  He has a cranky, old roommate who’s there following a fall at a nursing home.  The gang isn’t quiet, never quiet, and at one point this guy gets so fed up he leans across his bed and yells right in Dennis’ face, “I wish you would have died.  Then I wouldn’t have to listen to your shithead friends shouting over each other all goddamned day long.”

Dennis just raises his eyebrows, gives a curt smile, and nods.  “Me too, buddy.”

The gang shuts up after that.  Or - they try to.  Dee spends most of her time on Charlie and Frank duty, dragging them out of the room when they get too noisy.  In these quiet moments, Mac tries his hand at getting Dennis to open up.

“So, uh - you’ll be going home soon, huh?” Mac asks.  

Dennis rolls his eyes.  “Can’t wait.  I’m sure Mandy’s thrilled by the idea of taking care of me.  As if she didn’t already have a toddler to take care of.”

“Den - “ Mac starts, but Dennis waves a hand.

“Help me up, bro.  I need to take a piss.”

Mac hurries forward, grabbing Dennis under the arms and hoisting him upward.  As quietly as they can, as not to arouse the cranky roommate, Mac and Dennis haul both his IV and oxygen tank into the bathroom.

“Bullshit,” Dennis mumbles, tugging at the oxygen hose.  “I don’t need this.”

“Leave it in,” Mac reprimands.

It’s a good call too, since Dennis is wheezing by the time he reaches the toilet.  He pulls up the hospital gown and grabs his dick with shaky fingers, sighing as he relieves himself.  Mac glances over absentmindedly, but that single glance is enough to freak him the hell out.  The fluid in the toilet is a dark, unsettling orange.

“Dude, are you pissing blood right now?”

Dennis looks down.  “Oh.”  He laughs, long and hearty, and it does nothing to calm Mac’s nerves.  “Yeah.  I really fucked up my kidneys, apparently.  And my liver.  And my lungs.”  He continues laughing under his breath and Mac just stares at him with wide eyes.

“Jesus Christ,” Mac mutters.

“Relax,” Dennis drawls.  “They said I’m gonna be fine, right?”

“Uh, well - you’re not gonna die.  But I think you’re anything other than fine right now, man.”

Dennis rolls his eyes again.  “Fuck off, Mac.”

.

Mandy has them all seated in a waiting area.  Dennis is soundly asleep and encouragingly on the mend.  It’s time to start considering where to go from here.  Dennis needs help, they all know this.  And in his time spent waiting for Dennis to recover, Mac has been doing some research, looking up all he can on Borderline Personality Disorder.  His conclusions are this - he knows that this shit isn’t just going to go away.  Not according to all the accounts he’s seen thus far.  He knows Dennis is just going to keep getting worse, keep being suicidal, that he’ll probably attempt again if something doesn’t change.  Mac just doesn’t know how they can get that change to happen.

Mandy clears her throat.  “I just want to thank all of you for being here.  It means a lot to the whole family.  Now, we need to discuss Dennis’ safety plan for the future.  Of course, the doctors think it’s best if he’s transferred to a nearby psych hospital for further treatment.”

“Absolutely not,” Mac blurts out.

All eyes are on him instantly.  Mandy looks at him with confusion and shakes her head.  “Why not?”

“Are you kidding me?” he asks, leaning forward in his seat.  “We’re not sending Dennis to some loony bin.”

“It’s - it’s not a loony bin,” Dee reasons.  “Not like the one Frank went to.  They don’t have places like that anymore, Mac.  I mean - they don’t, do they?”

“It’s a great facility, Mac,” Mandy says, meeting Dee’s eyes.  “I’ve already looked into it.”

Mac slams a hand down on the armrest of his seat.  “No, goddamnit.  He’s not going to some insane asylum.  We - all of us - we can take care of him.”

“Mac,” Dee starts softly.  “Maybe we should consider it.  We’re probably the last people who should be trying to help him - “

“Fuck that,” Mac snaps.  “You just don’t want put in the effort, Dee.  You can’t even shoulder a little bit of the responsibility for the fact that your twin brother tried to off himself.”

That sets her off.

“Oohhh, you know what, Mac?”  Dee rises from her chair, crossing the space between them and leaning down so her face is just inches from Mac’s.  “You’re the one that’s supposed to be in love with him, huh?  Then why didn’t you do anything?  You know him better than anyone?  You’re the only person who hates themselves enough to put up with his bullshit.  Where were you when he was eating all his psycho pills, huh?”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Charlie shouts, and he’s got his hands on Dee’s shoulders, dragging her backwards.  “Dee, stop.  Stop it!  Stop it!”  She follows his touch, but doesn’t take her eyes off Mac.  “Everybody just calm down, alright?”

Mandy rubs her temples and Mac bites down so hard on his lip that he tastes blood.

“Look,” Mandy starts with a deep breath.  “If we don’t transfer Dennis to the psych hospital, then I think he - he should at least go back to Philadelphia.”

“What?” the gang asks simultaneously.

Mandy nods.  “Obviously, he hasn’t been doing so good here.  He misses you guys.  He’s lonely.”

“What about Brian Jr.?” Dee asks, then, “Brian?  Is it technically just Brian now that Dennis is Dennis?”

Mandy ignores her.  “We’ll make it work.  Who knows?  I could start looking for a job there.  The little guy and I could follow once I secured one.”

“Are you sure about this?” Mac asks.

Mandy nods.  “I know Dennis wants to be a good father, but - he can’t take care of Brian if he isn’t taking care of himself first.”

The gang nods along with her.

“You’re right,” Mac mumbles.  “We’ll - we should talk to him.”  The gang moves to get up, but Mandy puts up a hand to stop them.

“Could you just do one thing for me?” Mandy asks, and Mac is slightly taken by how kind her eyes are as he looks at her.  Mac feels like they could be bosom friends in the right circumstances.

“Yeah,” he says, almost without thinking.

“Well, two,” she clarifies, and she begins to cry.  “Will you ask Dennis if I can see him?  If he says no, then - then take good care of him, Mac.  I’m still not sure what your guys’ relationship is, but - I know he cares a lot about you, and obviously you care about him.”

Mac nods several times.  “I can do that, Mandy.  And I do.  I do care about him."

.

Dennis lets Mandy see him, but only if the gang leaves the room.  Naturally, they all shove their ears up against the door as compensation.  None of them really know what to expect.  Dennis’ relationship with her has always been so secretive.  However, none of them expect him to start crying and apologizing.

“I’m sorry, Mandy.  I wanted to be a good father, I did.  I just - I started feeling too much.  Too much all the time and it wouldn’t stop, and I thought maybe it was the pills, maybe if I stopped taking them - “

“Dennis, Dennis - “

“But that didn’t help, and I just - I couldn’t do it anymore.  I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry, Mandy.”

“Dennis, it’s okay.  It’s okay.”

“It’s not - “

“Yes, it is.  And - and you’re gonna go back with your friends, and you’re gonna be happy, okay?  You’re gonna get better, and Brian and I will come when we can.  It’s gonna be okay, Dennis.”

The gang hears Dennis sob loudly, and then the two of them fade into silence.  Somebody mumbles something once or twice, but nothing intelligible.

“Shit,” Dee mutters.  “He really blubbered like a baby, didn’t he?”

“Shut up, Dee,” Mac sighs.

.

The first thing Mac does when the two of them get back to their apartment is try to get Dennis to eat.  He hadn’t been able to eat real solids in the hospital, but he had crackers on the plane, and Mac knows that it’s critical he eat to heal.  He’s still in a lot of pain, and he’s going to need to rest for awhile yet.

“‘M not hungry,” Dennis mumbles as he faceplants into the couch.

“Come on - you have to eat something, dude,” Mac urges.

“Nauseous,” is all Dennis says.

“Then let me make you soup or toast or something.”

Dennis growls.

“I’m making you toast,” Mac says firmly.  “And you’re going to eat it.”

Dennis eats three bites and then declares that he’s going to bed.  Mac looks at the clock.  It is eleven.  Late, but not too late.  He’s exhausted though, so he follows Dennis into his bedroom.  When the door doesn’t slam shut, Dennis looks around.

“Dude?  What are you doing?”

“Going to bed, what do you think?” he snaps.  Dennis looks around at the room - his furniture, his bed, his clothes still in the closet, and then looks back at Mac with wide eyes and bent eyebrows.  “Oh,” Mac says.  “Yeah, your room’s still here.”

“I know,” Dennis says.  “Why are you in it?”

“Oh,” Mac says again, bigger this time.  “Well, uh - after you left, I thought about setting fire to it, but we had just finished renovations, so - I kind of just took it instead.  All I have is the Asspounder 4000, which you can’t really sleep on, and your room, it - it smelled like you,” he finishes quietly.

Dennis closes his eyes for a long moment, and Mac thinks he’s gonna start raging, but he doesn’t.  “Okay, Mac.  Jump in.  Let’s just get some sleep.”

All Mac really wants to do is curl up on Dennis’ chest and listen to his heartbeat, but he’ll settle for the sound of his breathing from across the mattress instead.

.

Dennis doesn’t leave bed.  Mac knows he’s supposed to rest, that his organs are recovering from high toxicity, but Dennis will not get up for anything.  To piss or shit, sure.  But he doesn’t get up to eat, or shower, or even change his clothes.  For the first few days, Mac lets it slide, but then the gang starts asking when he’s going to leave Dennis on his own again and Mac realizes he can’t.  He’s too scared.  Dennis has always had episodes like this.  He’s always cycled through bouts of depression, and in the past Mac just let him be.  But that was before.  Now Dennis is fresh off a suicide attempt and Mac is too terrified that he’ll throw himself out the window if Mac leaves him alone for more than twenty minutes.

And meds?  Meds are another disaster in and of themself.  After experiencing what it was like without them, Mac was sure Dennis would be all over them again, but that is the opposite of what actually happens.  Instead, Dennis slips back into his old delusions and refuses to take them.

“Den, come on,” Mac pleads.  “I’m begging you.  Take them for me.”

“I don’t need them,” Dennis insists.  “I’m a god, Mac.  I don’t need mortal medication.”

Mac rubs a hand patiently over his face.  “Dennis, you have to take these fucking meds.  They upped your dose, which tells me that you really, really in fact, need them.”

“I’m perfect without them.”

“You tried to kill yourself, Dennis,” Mac spits out, teeth clenched.  He’s over these games.  “You almost died.”

“But I didn’t,” Dennis argues.  “I’m alive, and I’m fine.”

“Jesus Christ,” Mac mutters.  He has to take a moment to step out of the room.  He breathes deep and cries a little - out of frustration and also because he’s sad that Dennis is sad and won’t fucking admit it.  He spends a solid fifteen minutes just taking deep breaths and bracing himself for another round of this endless argument.

He opens the door to Dennis’ bedroom once again.  He’s still facing away from Mac, refusing to move.  “Alright, Dennis, I’m serious this time.  You have to take your meds.”

“I haven’t taken any since we got back to Philly and I’m just fine,” Dennis whines.

“Actually, I’ve been opening the capsules and mixing them in your pudding.”

Dennis rolls over and glares at Mac.  “Goddamn you.”

Mac sighs and collapses onto the bed next to him.  “Do you actually believe that, Dennis?”

“Believe what?” Dennis grumbles.

“That you’re fine without them.  That you’re ‘an untouchable god who can’t be ravaged by mental illness?’  Like, I know when you get all riled up all that god shit comes spilling out, but I don’t know if you actually believe that.”

“I don’t,” Dennis says after a moment.  “I don’t believe that at all.  I just have to tell myself that, have to tell everybody that because really I’m just a worthless spec.  I mean we all know it.  We all know I’m a piece of shit, Mac.  And that’s what I don’t get.  I don’t get why Mandy even bothered.  I don’t know why you guys took me back.  After I woke up and realized I hadn’t died, I had hoped Dee, the selfish bitch, would sneak in and smother me with a pillow.  Why not?  I’m of no use to anyone.  Even when I tried to renounce my old ways and be a good father for my son, I failed.  Kids - kids are supposed to bring you joy, but I was so goddamn depressed.  What kind of father am I if being one just makes me want to die?”  He laughs, breathy and slightly hysterical.  He’s crying, and Mac reaches out without thinking, pulling Dennis into his lap.  Dennis dissolves into sobs and Mac just holds him.

Eventually, once he’s calmed down and Mac is playing soothingly with his hair, Dennis says quietly, “I’ll do it.”

“Do what?” Mac asks absently.

“Take my meds,” Dennis says.

Mac smiles and hands the bottle over to him.  “Take the two pills and give it back to me.”

Dennis nods.  “Probably a good idea.”

Once he’s swallowed them with a drink of water, Dennis settles back into Mac’s lap and closes his eyes.  He curls a fist on the top of Mac’s thigh, pinky holding onto the fabric of his sweatpants.  Mac smiles wider and returns to running his fingers through Dennis’ curls.

.

So Dennis takes his meds, but that’s all Dennis does.  He still doesn’t want to leave bed.  He still won’t eat more than a few bites at a time, and Mac has to drag him to the shower once he starts reeking.  Ideally, he needs to be doing more.  A lot more.  Mac has an entire list from the hospital in North Dakota.  Dennis’ safety plan.  It involves a lot of shit that Dennis will definitely not budge on.  No drinking, no illegal drugs, no unsafe sex, no starving himself, taking his meds, going to therapy - Mac has no idea how he’s going to enforce all of this.

Eventually, the gang takes it upon themselves to cheer Dennis up.  After Mac establishes that it’s not going to be an elaborate practical joke like the one they played on Dee (“Oh, hell no.  Spite - spite worked for me.  But where I’m strong-willed, Dennis is extremely fragile”), he figures it might be worth a shot.  Mac decides to forewarn him, but that still does nothing.  The gang comes over to find Dennis still in his bed, still in the same pajamas he’s been wearing for three days straight.

“Hey, Den.  Den?” Dee asks.

Dennis groans, face in his pillow.

“Hey - Dennis, man - Frank and I gotta show you this cool new game we invented,” Charlie tries.  “It’s - it’s kind of like Nightcrawlers, except - “

“I don’t care, Charlie,” Dennis says, lifting his head up just enough for his words to get out.

Mac sits down gently beside him and rests a hand between Dennis’ shoulder blades.  “Hey, man - the gang’s just here to cheer you up, alright?”  His voice is soft, soothing.  It’s the voice he uses to talk Dennis out of any breakdown.  It works when he rages, it worked after the fiasco on _Family Fight_.  If only he could have talked to Dennis the night he decided to take all those pills.

“I don’t want them here,” Dennis grumbles.  “It’s embarrassing.  I don’t want everyone to see me like this.”  He starts to cry a little bit, and Mac wipes a tear from his check.

“Hey, hey - Den.  It’s okay.  It’s okay.  Nobody’s here to judge you,” Mac says.  “We all just want to help.”

“You can’t,” Dennis sobs.  “You can’t help.”

Mac sighs, but attempts to calm him by rubbing circles in his back.  After a moment, Dee approaches him.

“Mac, can I talk to you in the living room?”

Mac looks down at Dennis, biting his lip.  He makes no obvious sign that he even heard Dee at all.  He just stares blankly ahead as he continues to cry.  Mac looks back to her nods.

“Den, I’m gonna step outside for just a second, alright?  I’m gonna escort the gang out of your room, okay?  I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Dennis hiccups.

Mac stands up and follows Dee out the door.  The second that it shuts behind them, Dee turns around, arms crossed, chewing on her lip.

“This is bad - this is bad, Mac.  I mean, I’ve witnessed nearly all of Dennis’ breakdowns all throughout our lives, but this is the worst one yet.”

“Yeah, well, we already know that,” Mac snaps.  “He tried to kill himself, Dee.”

Dee scoffs.  “Alright, well, all I’m saying is - whatever you’re doing, it’s not working.”

“Obviously,” Mac spits.  “I - I mean - he’s taking his medication.  And - and I snuck it to him before he started agreeing, but it’s not doing anything.  Isn’t it supposed to be doing something for him?”

Dee shrugs.  “Well, first, it takes three to six weeks to work - “

“It’s been four weeks - I don’t know.”

“So, wait a couple more weeks and see,” Dee says.  “Anyway, these are mood stabilizers, they have to, you know, stabilize.  He’s used to feeling things really intensely.  If they’re working, he is going to feel depressed at first.”

Mac, presses his fingers into his eyes.  “That makes no sense.  He was depressed before.  If they’re helping, shouldn’t he not feel depressed?”

“Medication is fickle,” Dee replies simply.  “Speaking of which,” she adds, eyes locking on Charlie, who is currently goading Frank into a new game of whatever the hell they came up with.  “Do you think we could convince Charlie to try ADHD meds?”

Mac glares at her.  “We’re not doping up the entire gang.”

Dee raises her eyebrows.  “Don’t tell me that before Dennis left you didn’t notice his medication working.  He was so much calmer.”

Mac bats a hand at her.  “I like Charlie the way he is.  If he’s not hurting anybody, who cares?  Now, what do we do about Dennis?”

“I think we need to take things slowly.  We need to trick him into doing things.”  

“Like how?”

“Like right now.  Go in there and ask him if he wants to join us out here.  We could all have a drink,” Dee suggest.

“Dee, you stupid bitch,” Mac huffs.  “He’s not supposed to drink.”

“Right,” Dee mutters.  “We could watch one of those stupid movies you two like.  Didn’t you guys used to have movie nights?  Have you tried any of those since he got back?”

Mac taps his nose with a finger.  “Shit, Dee.  This might work.”  He claps her on the shoulder and unceremoniously dashes into Dennis’ room.

“Dennis,” he says, shaking his leg.  “Come on.  We’re all gonna watch a movie alright.  Dee and Charlie are gonna make some popcorn.  You don’t have to do anything - just sit on the couch next to me.  How ‘bout it, Den?  Thundergun Express?  Come on, you love that dong shot.”

Dennis turns his head just enough to look at Mac.  “I do love that shot.  Will you make me a hot chocolate too?”

Mac smiles and feels a large burst of joy bubble up in his throat.  “Yeah, bud,” he says, a little choked up.  “I’ll make you hot chocolate.”

.

After five weeks of Dennis being home, Mac finally, finally sets up an appointment with a therapist.  He tried Dee’s old therapist, but apparently that bitch doesn’t give the sort of therapy Dennis needs, so he has to settle for someone else.  The only problem that remains is the fact that Dennis doesn’t want to go to therapy.

“Dennis, come on,” Mac begs for the fifth time today.  “It’s on the list.  It’s on this goddamn list your doctor gave me.  You have to go.”

Dennis rolls over and buries his face in his pillow.  “‘M not going.”

“Man, would you just look at yourself,” Mac says.  “You’ve barely gotten out of bed in like, six weeks.  Your doctor made it pretty clear.  Your meds alone aren’t going to be enough.  You have to go to this dye-electric - no, that’s not right - di - dial-hectic - “

“Dialectical behavioral therapy,” Dennis supplies.

“Yes - exactly,” Mac agrees.  “Look, you’re not getting any better, man.  You gotta do something.”

Dennis lets out a loud, gratuitous groan.  He finishes with a small shriek, throwing his limbs against his mattress repeatedly.

“Dude, I will handcuff you and drag you there.”

“Kinky,” Dennis mutters.

Mac hangs his head in defeat.  “I swear to God - “ he says under his breath.  He takes a second to rub furiously at his face until his eyes water.  Slowly, he lifts his head up.  “Dennis, if you don’t go, I’m going to call Mandy.  And you know she won’t let you see Brian Jr. if you aren’t getting help.”

Dennis doesn’t move.  He makes no indication that he heard Mac, but that is precisely how Mac knows he was heard.  Quietly, Dennis says, “She’s - she’s not coming to Philly any time soon, is she?”

“I talked to her yesterday,” Mac says, nonchalant.  “She has a phone interview for a job tomorrow, so who really knows when she’ll be coming to Philly?”

Dennis is silent again, presumably weighing his options.  After a minute, he says, “I’ll make you a deal, Mac.”

“Lay it on me.”

Dennis rolls over and drags himself into a sitting a position.  “Just - just give me some time.  I’ll - I’ll do my best to get normal again.  I’ll - I’ll start showering every day, and - and eating, and I’ll do chores, and - and run errands.  Just give me some time, and if I’m not normal again soon, I’ll - I’ll go to therapy.”

Mac considers it for a moment.  “I’m giving you a week, Dennis.  A week.  And you have to follow your safety plan.”

Dennis groans again, but he makes no other sound, so Mac takes that as a groan of agreement.

.

For the life of him, Dennis tries.  Mac will give him that.  He’s still far too depressed to go to work, but he does get up every day, whether it’s at eleven AM or five pm, and he showers.  Mac really appreciates that he no longer has to deal with a Dennis who constantly stews in his B.O.  However, sometimes that’s the end of Dennis’ effort.  Some days, Mac still has to force him to eat.  Other days Dennis will do his best by eating cereal or toast or boxed mac ‘n’ cheese.  Before the week is up, on the very last day, Dennis gets up with Mac.

While Mac is in the shower, Dennis prepares a very burnt breakfast.  Mac thinks he might have had a small breakdown, because his eyes are red and he looks like he’s been crying.

“Den,” Mac treads carefully.  “What are you doing, man?”

“I’m coming to work with you today,” Dennis declares, sitting down and staring at his eggs with an apprehensive look.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with this being the last day of the week, does it?” Mac asks, taking the seat across from him.

“No - nope,” Dennis says without meeting his eyes.  “I - I want to go back.  I’m ready to go back.”

“Are you sure?” Mac asks.  “You know you’re not supposed to drink.”

Dennis caves, looking up at him with a horrified expression.  “Not even a little?”

Mac raises an eyebrow.  “You don’t want to stray from your safety plan, do you?”

Dennis lowers his eyes and plasters a fake smile on his face.  “No.  No, you’re right.  I wouldn’t want to do that.”  He stabs at his eggs.

They finish breakfast in silence and walk to work.  Dennis scowls the entire way, still gravely bitter about his Range Rover going up in flames.  The gang has already apologized a thousand times just to get him to shut up about it, but he won’t.

Any anger he’s harboring disappears when he walks into the bar, a look of pure dread filling his face instead.  Everybody goes silent as they watch him cross the entryway and find a seat next to Charlie on one of the stools.  He folds his hands together and clears his throat.

“Dennis,” Dee starts, and it comes out almost as a question.  “We, uh - we didn’t know you were coming in today.”

“Or - or ever really,” Charlie adds.  Mac smacks him upside the head.  “Ow.”

“Yeah, well, I thought it was time,” Dennis says.  “Eventually, you just gotta - gotta get back out there.”

“Well, do you want a drink?” Frank asks, which earns him a smack as well.

Dennis looks up at Mac who’s wearing an extremely stern expression on his face.  “N - no.  I’ll just have some soda.”  Mac grabs a glass and fills it with the soda gun before putting it in front of him with a smile.  Dennis expects them to lapse back into conversation, but they don’t.  Everyone stares at him instead, like he’s some goddamned zoo animal.  “What?” he asks, irritated.

“Nothing,” Dee says, tearing her eyes away from him.  “Uh, Charlie - why don’t you finish your story about - what were you telling us about?”

“Oh, Frank and I found a couple o’ ghouls last night in the hall, it - it’s not a big deal.”

“No, no tell the whole story,” Mac encourages.

Charlie twiddles his fingers together.  “I mean - I was really finished with it when you guys walked in, so - “

“Tell it again,” Mac says through his teeth.  

“It’s not - it’s not as exciting the second time.”

“Oh my god,” Mac breathes.

They’re saved from a fight by someone walking through the door.  An unmistakable man comes in wearing tatty clothes and his hair in a long ponytail.  He’s welcomed by the familiar chorus of, “Cricket! Ayyyy, Cricket!”

He opens his mouth to say something, but is stopped immediately when he sees the fifth person at the bar.  “Dennis?  Yo.  Shit, man.  How you doing?”  He steps up to him and holds his hand out.  Dennis doesn’t take it; nor does he say anything.  “Heard you tried to kick the bucket,” Cricket says.  The gang groans in unison.  Dennis facepalms.

“Cricket - !” Mac hisses.

“What?” Cricket asks, grabbing a beer from the counter and cracking it open.  “No shame in that, my friend.  Been there myself.  Super high at the time, so it didn’t work out, but you know.”

Mac barrels around the bar and grabs Cricket by the shoulders.  “Aright, Cricket, why don’t you go smoke some PCP in the bathroom or whatever.  Just get out of here.”  He shoves Cricket into the bathroom and slams the door behind him.  “Sorry, Dennis,” he says sheepishly.

Dennis cracks one eye open and sits silent for a moment before he says, “Fuck it,” and grabs a bottle of beer.

.

Three hours later, Mac is dragging Dennis through the door to their apartment.  After going without alcohol for almost two months, eight bottles is enough to have Dennis completely wasted.  He can barely stand, and Mac all but throws him onto his bed. 

“Ouch,” Dennis slurs.  “Why’re you being so . . rough?”

“Because you’re an idiot,” Mac answers.  “And I’m pissed off at you.”

Dennis grabs a pillow and presses it to his abdomen.  “I’s just one slip-up, Mac.  Come on.”

“No, Dennis,” Mac snaps.  “It’s not just one slip-up.  It’s you going back down the same damn road that I’m trying to save you from.”

Dennis belches loudly.  “Mac, hones’ly - it’s not alcohol that makes me depressed.  It’s my fucking life.”

“Yeah, well, alcohol certainly doesn’t help,” Mac says, throwing a hand up in the air.

“Dude,” Dennis says.  “We’ve been drinking since we were like thirteen.  What difference does it make now?”

“What - what difference does it make?!” Mac bellows.  “The difference is that you’re not thirteen anymore, Dennis.  The difference is that you’re on medication now.  Medication that you’re not supposed to mix with alcohol.  The difference is that you’re severely fucking sick.  The difference is that you tried to kill yourself.  You tried to kill yourself, Dennis!  You almost died! How could you do that?  How could you do that to me?  It was one thing for you to disappear to North Dakota, but if you had killed yourself?  What the fuck, Dennis?”  

Mac’s breathing heavily now, eyes filled with tears and an immense rage.  His chest heaves as he stares down at Dennis.  Dennis, who only stares back with a blank expression and a taut jaw.  The stare each other down for what feels like hours.  Hell, it could be hours.  Mac almost jumps when Dennis finally opens his mouth and says, “Get out.”

He still hasn’t caught his breath.  “Den - “

“Get out of my room,” Dennis says, but he’s not firm at all.  His voice shakes instead.

“Dennis, it’s our room - “

“I don’t care, get out.  Get out, damn it!  Get the fuck out, Mac!”  Dennis is red in the face now, and whether it’s from anger or from the effort to not break down sobbing, Mac can’t tell.  Either way, he turns around and walks slowly out the door.  He shuts it behind him, but it doesn’t block out the sound of Dennis crying.

.

Eventually, Mac falls asleep on the couch, throw pillow pressed to his ear to block out the sound of Dennis breaking down in their bedroom.  When he wakes up, the sun has set and the apartment is now dark around him.  His mouth his dry, and his chest feels heavy.  At least it’s quiet; which means Dennis has probably fallen asleep too.

Mac rolls over from his side onto his back.  He drapes his arms above his head and stares at the ceiling.  He sighs heavily.  God, he fucked up.  He didn’t mean to get so emotional, he just - he was terrified.  He saw Dennis shitfaced and all he could think about was what he must have looked like when he was overdosing.  Mac feels his eyes burn, and he swears under his breath.  With a great sigh, he hauls himself upward and nearly jumps out of his skin.  

A dark figure is standing in the kitchen, brandishing a knife.  Mac scrambles upward before his eyes can adjust.  He grabs the lamp from the side-table next to him and takes a step forward.  The figure shifts too, and the low light in the kitchen reveals him.

“Dennis?” Mac asks. “What the hell are you - ?”  He doesn’t finish his question because the answer hits him as he continues to look at Dennis.  

Dennis may have a knife in his hand, but he’s not going to use it on Mac.  His left fist is clenched, the underside of his arm facing upward.  Mac immediately starts panicking for an entirely different reason.

“Den,” he says gently.  “Why don’t you put the knife down?”

Dennis does nothing.  Without thinking any further, Mac takes a dash for it.  Probably also without thinking about, Dennis takes the opportunity to slash his wrist.

“Jesus, no - “ Mac howls as he tackles Dennis to the ground.

“Fuck - “ Dennis screams.  

Mac climbs off of him as they both continue to yell.  Dennis is bleeding everywhere.

“Christ, Dennis - “

“That was a mistake.  Oh, God!”

“I need towels, shit!”

“Oohhh, that wasn’t deep enough.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Shit, that hurt.”

“Come on, Jesus Christ.  Where are our goddamn towels?!”

“Why does anyone try to kill themselves this way?!”

Mac finally finds the drawer with towels in and grabs as many as he can fit in his fist before dropping to his knees next to Dennis.  He grabs the arm that Dennis is cradling and presses the wad of towels onto his wound.  Realizing he probably should have kept one, Mac yanks off his shirt up over his head and rips a strip of fabric from the hem.  While Dennis continues to swear loudly, Mac uses the strip to tie around Dennis’ forearm.  Satisfied, he stands up and pulls his phone out of his jeans, which are wet with blood.

“Alright - ambulance.”

“No, no, no,” Dennis says from the floor.  He uses his good arm to tug at Mac’s leg.  “No hospitals.”

“Too bad,” Mac shouts back as he dials 911.

“I don’t want to be on suicide watch again - Mac!”

“Then stop attempting suicide!”

“Mac, please - it’s not deep enough.”

“There is blood everywhere, Dennis.”

“Just - patch it up yourself.”

_“911 - what’s your emergency?”_

“Mac!”

Mac pulls the phone from his ear and covers the receiver.  “Do you really think that’ll work?”

Dennis nods furiously.  “There’s a first aid kit in the bathroom.  If you wrap my wrist tight enough, I think I’ll be fine.”

Mac hangs up.  “If you bleed out on our carpet, I’m going to fucking kill you.”

.

Once they’ve settled down and Dennis’ wrist is bandaged to the best of Mac’s ability (and only bleeding very slowly still), the two of them crawl into bed together.  Dennis wraps his good arm around Mac’s waist as he snuggles into Mac’s chest.  Mac pulls away for a second, looking down at him.  Dennis stares back, startled.

“What?” he asks.

Mac leans down, wraps an arm around Dennis, grabs his face, and kisses him furiously.  He channels all his anger and fear into his lips, letting Dennis know exactly what he’s feeling.  When he pulls back, Dennis is dazed.

“You’re going to fucking therapy,” Mac says.

“Oh, definitely,” Dennis agrees, good hand ghosting his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> henlo my sunny blog is @ borderlinedennisr


End file.
